DIONYZA.
Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it.

CLEON.
O, let those cities that of plenty's cup
And her prosperities so largely taste,
With their superflous riots, hear these tears!
The misery of Tarsus may be theirs.

[Enter a Lord.]

LORD.
Where's the lord governor?

CLEON.
Here.
Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st in haste,
For comfort is too far for us to expect.

LORD.
We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore,
A portly sail of ships make hitherward.

CLEON.
I thought as much.
One sorrow never comes but brings an heir,
That may succeed as his inheritor;
And so in ours: some neighbouring nation,
Taking advantage of our misery,
Math stuff'd these hollow vessels with their power,